


Double Joy, Half a Sorrow

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Coming of Age, Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Chief Wayne Unser, being a 'Friend of the Son's' doesn't mean he's a friend of the Club, it means he's a friend of the members and the women they love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Joy, Half a Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turnonmyheels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnonmyheels/gifts).



> Title is from quote: Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half a sorrow. ~Swedish Proverb. This is my first Son's of Anarchy fic.

Wayne Unser joined the Marine Corps because he was a patriot. He chose the Corps because it had both a deadly, and a romantic reputation, although he'd deny the latter until this bitch cancer stole his very last breath.

He served in Vietnam and the things he saw there continued the erosion of his idealism that had begun with the assassination of President Kennedy. Still, Unser loved the Corps. It showed him the world outside of the small town he'd been born into.

It also gave him Della; sweet, dark-skinned Della.

Unser met his future wife in a small bar in Oceanside, California, when he was stationed at Camp Pendleton. They were married just before his discharge, which meant he could wear his dress blues.

Wayne realized, when his hitch in the Corps was up, that he was probably best qualified to become a cop. He also realized that he was a small town boy at heart and big city policing and politics weren't for him.

Lodi appealed to him. It was city enough to offer good pay and opportunities, but small town enough to provide a sense of community and family. For that matter, San Joaquin County Sheriff's Office had potential as well.

In the end, the S.O.'s requirements were too rigid for Wayne and Lodi's waiting list was too long. So, when the sleepy little city of Charming offered to pay his way through the San Joaquin S.O. Academy and promised a patrol job when he graduated, Unser took it.

It was none too soon, as Della was expecting their first child.

Gemma was twelve years old when Wayne saw her for the first time. She and her family were well known to Charming PD. They were what the folks in his hometown would have referred to as 'from the wrong side of the tracks'. Poverty, alcohol, and violence were the main staples of the household and every patrol officer quickly became well acquainted with the location.

Gemma was born beautiful and smart, with a will of iron and a spine of steel. To keep her life from being perfect, God had cursed her with a bad heart, a bad temper, and an even worse family. There was never a doubt in Wayne's mind that Gemma was too big for Charming and it was just a matter of time before she made her escape.

Nixon's resignation was the nail in the coffin of Wayne Unser's belief in his fellow man. He realized that a cop's paycheck, even with overtime, wasn't going to allow him to provide his family with the lifestyle he wanted them to have. That year, he launched Unser Trucking with an eye toward making it the legitimate front for other enterprises that he would profit from; the kind of enterprises that fell in that shadowy gray area of society most people pretended didn't exist.

Wayne watched Gemma grow into a beautiful and precocious teenager. Her quick wit and sharp tongue got her into trouble frequently, even without the help of her family. Something about her touched him. He couldn't help but feel a measure of affection for her. Unser did what he could to keep Gemma out of trouble and when he couldn't, he tried to offset the fallout. He'd drop her off at home instead of hauling her into the station. Sometimes, he'd sit with her in a parking lot, sharing cigarettes and talking until it was late enough they were sure her father was no longer awake.

Most folks in Charming called Gemma a slut. Unser realized the truth, though. She'd learned the power of the pussy, and she'd learned it at a very young age. Unlike most of the local girls who turned promiscuous, Gemma didn't seduce her targets because she thought she loved them or to try to get them to love her. No, when Gemma wanted or needed something that someone else could provide, she had no problem giving up a little taste in order to get it.

She even knew when to withhold her body to achieve her own ends. There were full grown, educated women in Charming without a fraction of the smarts and sophistication Gemma possessed. Wayne suspected he was even a little bit in awe of her.

One night in particular, just before Gemma turned sixteen, Wayne came across her stumbling out of Dennis Cornell's Camaro and screaming obscenities.

It was his habit to cruise behind closed businesses and look for suspicious activity. On this night, the air was on the far side of chilly and a heavy cover of clouds hung low in the sky. Everything was wet and still so sound carried easily. As Unser rolled slowly around the corner of a building, the Camaro captured his attention because it was the only car in a darkened parking lot. When Gemma appeared from inside, something just didn't seem right. Concerned, Unser lit up the car with the headlights of his patrol vehicle and stepped out to see what the hell had Gemma so riled up. To his relief, she seemed unharmed.

"You goddamn son-of-a-bitch!" Gemma shrieked. "Don't you ever fucking touch me again. I tell you when and where you can get some!"

"Hey, hey," Unser said, walking up to the two teenagers. "What's going on here?"

"This bitch is losing her mind," Dennis said with derision and Gemma launched herself at the kid.

"If I'm a bitch then you're a fucking asshole," she cried, swinging at Dennis so Wayne had to grab her arms and hold her back.

"Now, calm down, Gemma," he urged her, "so I can figure out what's goin' on here."

"I told this prick 'no'," Gemma shouted, "and he stuck his hand down my blouse anyway."

"Is that true, son?" Unser asked Dennis, anger flaring in his chest.

"Yeah, but everybody knows," Dennis answered readily enough, "when Gemma says 'no', she don't really mean it."

This fired Gemma up once again and Wayne had to tighten his hold on her when she tried to lash out at Dennis again. Wisely, the kid stepped back to put more distance between himself and the enraged Gemma.

"Now I know your mama raised you better than to force yourself on girls, Dennis Cornell," Wayne said sharply. What kind of punk kids were being raised in this town, he wondered with disgust.

"It's just Gemma," Dennis said, obviously baffled as to why anyone would take Gemma's side against him.

"Unless you want to be hauled into the station for attempted sexual assault," Unser threatened, resisting the urge to smack the kid upside the head, "I suggest you climb into your car and take yourself home."

Dennis went reluctantly, the threat obviously working its magic. As the Camaro's taillights faded into the dark, Gemma relaxed under Wayne's hands. Then she tensed and pulled away, as if suddenly realizing she had let down her guard.

"Dickhead," she murmured.

"Get in my car, Gemma," Unser said quietly, thankful that the incident hadn't been any worse. "I'll take you home."

"I don't wanna go home," she said morosely. "You got any smokes?" She was looking anywhere but at Wayne, shoulders hunched and seemingly curling in on herself.

Unser gestured toward his patrol car. His heart ached for the lonely girl.

They sat together in silence, the windows rolled down as they each smoked cigarette after cigarette.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about?" Wayne finally asked, when he suspected Gemma was calm enough.

"Asshole was supposed to score something for me but he didn't come through," Gemma growled, tacking a long drag of her current cigarette. "He still expected payment, though."

"What is it he was supposed to score?" he asked, knowing he really shouldn't.

"Do you really want to know?" Gemma asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, guess not," Unser capitulated. "But you gotta be more careful, Gemma."

"I gotta get the fuck out of this small-minded town," she countered, with a shake of her head.

"There'll be time enough for that when you finish school." He worried she'd take off before she was ready to face the larger, dangerous world outside of Charming.

"Fuck that," Gemma said with antipathy.

"Let's say you scrape together money for a bus ticket tomorrow and blow town," Unser argued. "How would you support yourself without your high school diploma?"

"I got skills," Gemma said, with her trademark bravado.

"Gemma!" Wayne admonished, both concerned and a little embarrassed.

"Not those skills," Gemma laughed. "Well, I got those skills, too. But I can sing pretty good."

"Is that right?" he asked. Wayne wouldn't be surprised to find that was true. Gemma was always proving she was capable of more than people expected.

"Yeah," she continued. "I can get jobs singing in clubs. I can go to L.A. and join a band. I'm as good as Janice Joplin or Grace Slick or Mama Cass." Unser could tell she wasn't just yanking his chain. She meant what she said.

"What happens if that don't work out?" He didn't want to contemplate Gemma street-walking in Los Angeles.

"I can find work in Vegas singing in a lounge or something," she answered with all the simple innocence of youth.

She'd clearly been giving this some thought for a while now.

"What do you expect to find out there that you can't find right here at home?" he asked, truly curious and even more worried.

"Family," Gemma answered, simply.

"You got a family," Wayne pointed out.

"I got people I have the misfortune of sharing blood with," she said dryly. "I want a family that watches out for each other; takes care of each other; stands with each other against the rest of the world."

"I hope you find that someday," Unser said quietly, understanding now just what it was that drove Gemma. "What say I take you home now?"

"Yeah, I guess it's late enough," Gemma agreed, flicking the butt of her cigarette out the window.

Wayne wasn't the least bit surprised when she finally blew town. By that time, he'd made lieutenant. Gemma had turned sixteen. He tried to talk her out of it, still fearing what might happen to her out in the world, young and alone. His protests fell on deaf ears. Unser had always known Gemma would skedaddle just as soon as she could find someone to take her with him, but it hadn't kept him from trying to stop her.

What did surprise him is that Gemma came back.

Ten years later, with a motorcycle club in tow, a five-year-old Jackson gripping her hand, and a thick scar running the length of her breastbone, Gemma showed up back in Charming and took over the little city. Unser was a captain by then. Gemma Teller was a force of nature; a fierce, protective mamma cat who lived, and would most likely die for, the Club. Still, she reminded Wayne of the brave, angry and sad teen he'd looked out for all those years ago.

She finally had the family she'd gone looking for.

Years later, when most people whispered about how Gemma hated Tara Knowles because she didn't think she was good enough for Jax, Wayne suspected otherwise. He believed that Gemma hated Tara because she saw so much of herself in the girl. Tara lacked direction and discipline, though. She didn't love the Club; she accepted it as Jax's future and didn't think much past that. Unser suspected that, to Gemma's way of thinking, the woman Jax married would be Gemma's successor and she damn well better love that Club the same way Gemma did; or at least be as willing to protect it.

Gemma and the men who made up the First 9 of the Sons of Anarchy, settled down and made homes for themselves. Using methods not available to the police department, they drove out all criminal and unsavory elements. Charming had never been so peaceful.

Wayne liked SAMCRO's results, even if he had to turn a blind eye to their methods. When his tolerance of SOA's activities was well established, John Teller approached Unser and offered to pay for his assistance. The benefits to such a friendship with the MC were immediately evident. John subscribed to the 'you scratch my back' philosophy of business and before long, Unser Trucking was a very lucrative enterprise on behalf of, and thanks to, SAMCRO.

His conscience never bothered him once. The people of Charming were safe and happy. He and SAMCRO both only targeted those that could afford it – or deserved it. Hell, those damn Iran-Contra hearings proved the American government was filled with gunrunners; who could really blame the Sons?

Until John Teller and the Sons of Anarchy, most people in Charming only knew bikers from movies like Brando's The Wild One and the more recent road epic, Easy Rider. John Teller, though, was more James Dean than he was Brando or Fonda. He was smart and charismatic. Jax got that from his daddy; able to talk his way into or out of most anything, and able to persuade others to his way of thinking without much more than a wink and a smile.

Unser was assistant chief when Gemma's hereditary heart condition took the life of little Thomas Teller. Wayne felt his heart break for the boy, his family, but mostly for Gemma. John was never the same. True to her nature, Gemma held herself and the MC together and soldiered on. He couldn't help but admire her.

Wayne Unser was the chief of the Charming Police Department when John Teller was struck by a speeding semi and dragged beneath it for a distance. The ornery bastard lived another two days after that, but finally had to give up and let go. Wayne did what he could for Gemma and Jax, but his own sadness was intense. He felt the loss of John throughout the town almost immediately.

Jackson was fifteen when John died; a particularly hard age for a boy to lose his father. Wayne reached out to him, and the Club circled around him to provide comfort. It was Tara who got Jax through it, tough, having lost her own momma when she was nine. She got what Jackson was going through and she let him know it.

When Clay Morrow took over as president of SAMCRO, it made perfect sense that he and Gemma would marry. Most folks knew Clay had been in love with Gemma for years. If it seemed too soon after John Teller's death for Gemma to be remarrying, they didn't say it out loud. It just seemed the natural evolution of things for Clay to take over the MC and to get Gemma as his wife.

He was good to Jackson so most everyone looked the other way, including Unser.

Wayne stopped by one day, when Gemma was unpacking in the new house she and Clay had purchased together. It was a move to solidify the SAMCRO powerbase, he was sure.

The day was typical for California; clear, sunny and mildly warm. As he stepped into the house, he saw boxes strewn everywhere. Gemma had the windows open to let the cross breeze blow. The woman herself had her hair clipped up and she wore old jeans and a dingy tank top.

"Anything I can help you with there, Gemma?" he asked, looking around at what was taking shape as an almost gothic decorating scheme.

"Hey there, Wayne," she greeted him with a kiss to the cheek. "You any good at hanging pictures?"

"Well, Della's made sure I've got a lot of experience at it," he replied. "But I don't think she'd say I'm good at it."

"If you can hold a frame and swing a hammer, you'll be a great deal of help," she smiled at him and held up a photo of Jackson. "Clay's hands are giving him some trouble right now."

Wayne grunted, his tone non-committal. Clay's stiff and sore hands had recently been explained by a diagnosis of degenerative arthritis. It went without saying that, although he still had many years ahead of him, it would eventually rob him of the ability to ride.

They worked companionably, Gemma talking of her troubles with Jax, how Opie Winston remained his ever-present shadow, and how she hated Tara Knowles. Wayne told her about Della and his brood of children and how each was doing in school and sports. When Gemma handed him the next photo, he almost didn't pay attention to it. What finally captured his attention was the fact that it was black and white while all the others were in color.

"Gemma," Unser said in surprise, turning the picture for her to see. "This is you."

"Can't I hang a picture of myself in my own house?" she asked dryly, pausing to light a cigarette.

"Of course you can," he said defensively. "No, it's just that … you're on a stage … with a band. Are you singing?"

"Yep," she confirmed, blowing smoke out with a fierce hiss. "I once told you I had skills. You didn't think I could support myself by singing, did you?"

"Never gave it much thought, truth be told," Wayne confessed, studying the photo again. "I was just so worried about you out there alone."

"I won't lie," Gemma said, "there were some tough times. But I managed to pull through."

"That you did," he agreed, still staring at the photo, strangely proud. "Where was this? When was this?"

"That was actually just before I got pregnant with Jax," Gemma said, considering. "It was in a little club in North Hollywood."

"That so?" Wayne questioned, perplexed. "Weren't you with John by then?"

"Yeah, I was," Gemma looked confused. "So?"

"I just thought that once you met John …" he paused, searching for the right words. "Well, I guess I dunno what I thought."

Gemma snorted a laugh. "By the time that picture was taken, I was making good money singing. I had a whole circuit from the tranny clubs in L.A. to the bathhouses in San Fran. It took some time for the MC to build up and start earning."

"From runaway to songbird to biker queen," Wayne said with admiration, hanging the photo on the wall with all the others. "Who'da thought?"

Gemma stubbed out her cigarette and regarded him with a lifted eyebrow. "Who indeed?"

~*~

Jackson Teller would have ruled high school like his mamma ruled the biker club, if it hadn't been for David Hale. Like the alpha males they were, they eyed one another warily, exchanged verbal barbs, and circled constantly in a search for weaknesses to exploit.

There was never any doubt what the future held for Jax and Opie Winston. They were going to be the first Legacies to be patched into the Sons of Anarchy; the firstborn sons of the Original Nine. They weren't bullies, even if they were intimidating to look at. Jax and Opie were far too big hearted to victimize the innocent. Jax led the other rebels, misfits and outsiders. They hung on his every word and followed his every lead. Opie was Jax's best friend and enforcer.

David Hale was what most people thought of when they referred to 'All American'. He reached his full height young, so it was a couple of years before Jax caught up, but when he did, that was when the rivalry swung into action. Hale was tall and well built, handsome, smart, and a star athlete.

Where Jax was scruffy, David was clean-cut. Where Jax ruled the outlaws, Hale ruled the popular kids and the athletes. They effectively divided the school between their individual kingdoms. As grown men, they would come down on opposite sides of the law but if you looked closely, their values weren't all that different.

Tension between the boys might not have been so high if it hadn't been for Tara. David had a crush on her, but she only ever had eyes for Jax. He and Hale might have actually come to blows more than once if Jax hadn't treated Tara so well. The sun rose and set on that girl as far as Jackson was concerned.

There was a day Unser stopped by the high school around lunchtime. His path took him past the group of benches set on a secluded part of the campus, designated for the student smokers. This was Jackson Teller's throne room. This was where he held court every day.

"Afternoon, Tara," Unser greeted. "Jax, Opie."

"Hey, Chief Unser," Tara greeted with a wide smile. She sat on the table and draped herself around Jax, who sat on the bench between her legs.

"Hey, Chief," Jax said, with a lift of his chin.

"Chief," Opie said, always sparse in his use of words.

Unser sat on the bench beside Opie. The day was overcast and cool. They all had their coats zipped up and their hands in their pockets.

"Everything okay?" Jax asked, checking on his kingdom.

"Just fine," Wayne answered. "Just a routine meeting with your principal."

"So how goes keeping law and order in Charming?" Jax asked.

"Pretty much the same as it's ever been," he answered, then glanced at Tara. "How's your dad doing these days?"

Tara shrank further into the leather jacket she wore, and it was due to the cold. The coat was too large for her thin frame, being one that Jax had outgrown. She wrapped herself more tightly around Jax and her face grew shuttered before his very eyes. His question had turned the mood as oppressive as the weather.

"He's about the same," she answered. It was a code that meant he was still drinking and still smacking Tara around. Wayne felt his heart go out to her in much the same way it had to Gemma all those years ago.

"You let me know anytime I can help you," he said pointedly, knowing Tara was likely to turn to Jax for help and that could end in violence. Wayne would rather not have to send Jax to prison.

"We look out for Tara," Opie said quietly, but firmly.

"I know you do, and I appreciate that," Unser said, recognizing that family was protecting family. "But I don't want you boys takin' things into your own hands."

"I just gotta make it to graduation," Tara interjected. "Then we can get outta here and never look back."

This time it was Jax's face that grew shuttered. Opie's expression darkened. Unser saw the roots of what would become a major conflict in just a few short years.

"Tara," Jax admonished, "you gotta quit talkin' like that. Especially in front of my mom."  
"Once we're eighteen she can't keep us apart and she can't stop us from leaving," Tara insisted.

"Once we're eighteen she can't keep us apart," Jax said patiently, "but I keep telling you, my future is here with the Club."

"That's your mother talking," Tara started, running her hands over Jax's arms.

Opie interrupted, seemingly keeping the peace but Wayne suspected he was subtly backing Jackson. "It doesn't matter for now. You got a couple years to worry about that."

"If things get to be too much at home, Tara," Wayne said, getting back to the original topic, "you let me know."

"Yes, Chief," she replied quietly.

"You kids stay out of trouble," he said, rising from the bench and heading toward the school office to a chorus of goodbye's.

His path took him through the quad where David Hale was holding court. His hair was neatly trimmed and styled and he was clean-shaven. He wore a letterman's jacket like it was made for him. Unlike the outlaw crowd that surrounded Jax, David's group was made up of the popular and trendy kids, athletes, and cheerleaders. A pretty blond currently hung from his neck, clearly marking her territory. Hale seemed oblivious. She was just one more in the series while he waited for Tara Knowles to realize spending time with Jax Teller was a waste.

"Chief Unser," David greeted, rising from the bench to shake Wayne's hand. "How are things?"

"They're just fine, David," he replied. "How's the family?"

Hale shrugged. "You know the judge; he's always got some sort of scheme cooking."

He pushed down his annoyance at the thought of the scheming Judge Hale. "Give him my regards," Wayne said, starting to step away.

"What brings you here, Chief?" David asked, delaying Unser's escape.

"Just a routine stop-by," he answered, trying not to appear impatient.

"I thought maybe some of the junior members of the Sons might have caused some trouble." Hale's eyes narrowed as he assessed Unser's reaction.

"Not at all."

"You know what they're doing out of Teller-Morrow, don't you, Chief?" Hale asked, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"As it's an automotive repair shop," he answered, feigning ignorance, "I would imagine they fix up cars and bikes and such."

"You've heard the rumors that the Sons run guns out of there, haven't you?" Hale challenged him. "Shouldn't you be doing something about that?"

"Listen, son." Unser placed a hand on David's shoulder. "When you go to college and get your fancy Criminal Justice degrees, you'll understand that there's a difference between knowin' a thing and provin' a thing. Knowin' is good enough for average folks. But the courts and people like your dad require us to prove something."

"Have you even tried to investigate?" Hale pressed.

"Let me ask you somethin', son," Wayne deflected, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you know of anywhere inside of Charming where you can buy drugs of any kind?"

"No, of course not," he replied readily.

"Is there any gang violence, drive-by shootings, or deaths of innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire?"

"No, not at all."

"So, what do you suppose the good citizens of Charming might do if that all changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's a little thing most folks subscribe to. It's called, not in my backyard." Wayne knew his bitterness was bleeding through but he couldn't seem to care. "They like the ideas of more prisons and nuclear power, but they don't want either type of facility in their backyard. Same goes for criminal activity. They'll turn a blind eye if the activity doesn't cause trouble in their backyard."

"That shouldn't matter …" David started to protest.

"But that's politics," Unser said. "And one thing to remember; law and order is not the same as justice." With that, he continued on his way.

~*~

It was a cold night; the kind of cold that got into your bones and left frost on the surface of everything. Every time Wayne got out of his car, he could see his breath on the air. Like most of his officers, he did his best to stay inside of his car where it was warm and dry. No one was proactive on nights like that. The criminals all stayed home, too. Like everyone else, Wayne just drove around answering priority radio calls.

Unser recognized the vehicle description that went out over the radio. It was old man Knowles' Cutlass. If it had been reported weaving down the center of Main Street, Wayne would have suspected the drunk idiot was trying to get himself home from a bar. Given that it was parked 'suspiciously' in a deserted parking lot, he guessed it was going to turn out to be Tara and Jax getting some 'alone time'.

The fogged windows gave Wayne his answer. He could just make out dark clothing and pale skin writhing in the back seat. He rapped gently on the rear window with his Maglight and looked away as the two figures jumped and began to scramble clumsily to arrange their clothes.

"Come on out here when you're decent, you two," he called and moved to give the door room to open. He could see the humor of this situation but he didn't dare let the kids see it.

Jax stumbled out first, disheveled more than usual and bleary eyed. Tara followed, still pulling her clothes into place. Her hair was heavily mussed and her eyes were just as unfocused. Their lack of embarrassment about their state of undress told Wayne this was far from their first time.

"I'm not even going to ask you what you doing and give you the chance to lie to me," he said gruffly. "Just tell me you have rubbers."

Jax smiled and Tara snorted. "Yeah, Chibs makes sure I always have some," Jax answered.

"Good," Wayne said, relieved. "Now, I'd leave you to it but I can't overlook the drinking."

"Ah, come on, Chief." Jax's smile widened and he pulled out his trademark charm.

"I can't have you driving home drunk when you're done with your … business," Unser said firmly. "Your mama would kill me if I let something like a drunk driving crash happen to you."

"Fine," Jax sighed, understanding his mother's wrath. "Can you take us both to my house, then?" He put an arm around Tara's shoulders and pulled her body close into his own.

Unser understood the request. If Tara showed up at home drunk and her father was awake enough to realize it, his reaction could be extreme. "Sure, I'll drop you both at Gemma's."

They were met in the driveway by Gemma herself. She stood by, watching with a pinched expression as Jax and Tara poured themselves from the back of Wayne's patrol car.

"Jackson Teller," she snapped, "you know better than this."

"Come on, Mom," he tried his charm on Gemma but she'd apparently learned to resist that smile when John Teller had turned it on her. "It was just a few beers."

"You're under age and you were driving, Jax," she unleashed the full power of her temper on her son. "It's stupid and irresponsible." She turned on Wayne, then. "You caught 'em screwing, didn't you?"

Unser grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the patrol car and out of earshot as Clay came to usher the kids into the house. "How many times did I come across you in the same situation, Gemma?" he asked. "And at younger ages than those two are."

To Wayne's surprise, Gemma didn't seem to have an answer. She just stood watching him, arms folded over her chest.

"They're in love, even if you don't approve," he continued. "Have a talk with them about the drinking and driving, 'cause that's not good. But handle it here, and try to have some diplomacy. You know what will happen if I take Tara home in this condition and I would think you wouldn't that to happen to any young woman, even if you don't care for her all that much."

Gemma stared hard at Unser for several interminable moments. Then, "I really hate that you know so much about my past."

"That shit stays between you and me," he assured her. "But dig down deep into that small reserve of compassion I know you have and take care of the girl for the night. You ain't gonna change what they get up to, just help them to stay out of as much trouble as possible."

"Fine," Gemma said grudgingly.

The next time he ran into Jax Teller, he received a softly spoken 'thank you' for his troubles.

~*~

During their senior year, and just shy of their eighteenth birthdays, the kind of trouble Jax and Tara got into started to escalate. They got picked up a couple of times, along with Opie, for public intoxication. Unser hadn't been able to intervene in time to keep them all from getting put into the system, but they were juveniles and Clay and Gemma had bailed the kids out so it hadn't done them too much lasting harm.

Then came the night the three got caught in possession of stolen property. That one had been harder to sweep under the rug.

Gemma'd called Wayne at home to tell him the station had called. He met her and Clay at the cells and saw a very wasted and very unrepentant Jax, Opie and Tara trying to stare them down.

"Apparently they got their hands on some stolen electronics and had them in the trunk of Piney's car," Unser explained. "Tell me they weren't planning to sell them."

"Oh Jesus," Gemma swore. "What the fuck were you thinking, Jax?"

"I was bringin' business to the Club," he answered with drunken pride as he sat sprawled on the cell's bench.

"Income," Opie seconded from where he leaned against the wall.

"And you," Gemma turned on Tara and pointed an accusing finger. "You should be keeping him out of messes like this, not following him blindly into them."

"You're his mother," Tara fired back, leaning heavily on the bars of the jail cell. "Why can't you stop him from doing stuff you don't like?"

"Listen, you scrawny bitch," Gemma shouted, "you wanna know why I don't like you? 'Cause you're weak. You let him get away with whatever he wants instead of holding him accountable."

"Okay, okay," Wayne said, trying to keep the situation from escalating. "This isn't helping. Everybody calm down." He led Gemma away from the cells and could hear Clay begin speaking in low tones.

"Gemma, you need to stay calm," Unser cautioned her. "You'll just push him away acting like this."

"Can you believe this shit?" she asked with disgust. "That girl is smart and has Jax wrapped around her little finger. Instead of guiding him in the right direction, like a good woman should, she follows him into his juvenile, testosterone driven antics."

"She's a kid, Gemma," Wayne reminded her, laying a hand gently on her arm to emphasize his words. "She needs to grow up some, same as Jax. Remember, her mama died when she was nine. You may be the only real female role model she has."

"Wouldn't know it to look at her," she groused.

"Mary's comin' for Opie," he told her. "I'm gonna let you take Jax and Tara home with you, even though I should hold her for her father."

Gemma made a disgusted face. "No, that will just make things worse. I'll take them home, lock them in separate bedrooms and wait for them to sober up."

"I'll do what I can to make this go away," Wayne said. "The arrest may have to stand but I think I can get the charges dropped."

"Anything you can do," Gemma acknowledged.

Unser unlocked the cells at the same time Mary Winston arrived for Opie. He stood back and watched as Clay led the subdued group from the station.

~*~

It was a warm evening, nearly springtime. The days had grown longer so it was still light. That meant there were more people than usual out and about. Wayne was a few blocks away from the Dairy Queen when the call was broadcast, so he notified dispatch he was responding.

He pulled into the parking lot to find Chibs and Bobby Elvis trying to keep Jax, Opie and David Hale from coming to blows. Chibs held Jax tightly while Bobby pushed against Opie's broad chest. Both were struggling to keep Hale from reaching Jax, but they were careful not to touch him. David's hangers-on, who stood back goading the action, made their attempts more difficult.

Unser was impressed with the bikers' restraint. They knew better than to lay hands on the son of a judge. Still, their primary responsibility was to protect Jackson Teller from harm so they placed themselves squarely between the two potential fighters.

"Yae need tae calm doon, Jacky-boy," Chibs was saying as Unser approached.

"Chief," Bobby called. "You need to get Hale under control before Clay and Tig get here 'cause it won't be pretty."

Wayne stepped between the two groups and grasped David by his upper arms. "David, stop this. You're embarrassing yourself and your family," he said sharply.

"She's too good for him," Hale shouted with a gesture toward Jax. "He keeps getting her arrested."

"Tara is Jax's old lady and you need to respect that," Opie shouted and lurched forward, causing Bobby to shove hard against his chest.

"Tara Knowles is not your problem," Unser cautioned David.

"Someone needs to look out for her cause the criminal sure isn't."

"And you think you're man enough to take care of her?" Jax shouted, fighting against Chibs' restraining hands.

"Jackson, yer makin' things warse," Chibs said. "Just walk away, boy." He held tightly to Jax's shoulders and kept his body placed strategically between Jax and Hale.

"Jax, it doesn't matter, let's just leave," Tara pleaded from behind them all.

"He insulted me and he insulted the Club," Jackson spat angrily.

"It's just wards, kiddo," Chibs continued to try to calm Jax. "He hasn't acted against you or SAMCRO. Just leave it and walk away. Be the bigger man."

"I just need thirty seconds," Opie declared, "and he'll never insult the Club or stare at Tara again." This time, Opie's lunge forced Bobby to give a little ground.

"Enough!" Unser shouted above the ensuing melee, needing to get it under control before it degenerated further. "Everyone backs down right now or I haul all of you in as mutual combatants."

The tension level in the parking lot lowered just slightly, but the crowd did not disperse.

"David, what would your father say about having to bail your ass out of my jail?" Wayne asked, standing directly in front of Hale to try to force eye contact.

Hale finally seemed to get a hold of himself and he looked directly at Unser.

"Come with me," Wayne said, dragging David out of earshot of the crowd.

"A direct confrontation isn't going to help Tara," he said in a harsh whisper. "It's only gonna get her back up and piss off Jax."

"He doesn't look out for her the way he should," David insisted.

"You challenging him like a randy buck isn't gonna make anything any better," Wayne countered. "You gotta be her friend. Don't judge her. Just let her know you'll be there for her if she needs help or to make a change."

"Do you think that'll work?" David asked hesitantly.

"It has a better shot than your current method does," he answered.

The roar of Harley engines announced the arrival of Clay and Tig.

"You and your friends need to get outta here, now," he gave David a gentle shove.

"I'm not afraid of the Sons," Hale declared.

"Well, then you're just stupid," Unser declared. "Now get yourself home and take your spineless friends with you. You're better than them."

The crowd on David's side of the parking lot dispersed as everyone slowly climbed into the cars and drove away. Things on Jax's side calmed considerably, although none of them made a move to leave.

Clay approached Unser slowly. "We gonna have a problem?"

"Nah," Unser shook his head and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Young men rutting over a girl. That ain't never gonna change."

Clay snorted his agreement. "She is a disruptive piece of tail."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you refer to a teenage girl as a 'piece of tail'," Unser said. "Keep Jax and Opie busy the next few days and hopefully they'll steer clear of trouble."

"I hear that," Clay shook Wayne's hand and they parted ways.

~*~

Unser recognized the Morrow address as soon as the call went out over the air. He headed there himself. Disturbances never took place at Gemma's house. She didn't allow it. Her home was sacred. Things had to be a real mess for him to need to respond to the Morrow house.

As he pulled onto the right street, he caught sight of David Hale's Bronco parked across the street and a few houses down from the Morrows'. Tara must have been involved in whatever was going on.

Wayne slowed to a stop and watched David slide out of the Bronco and approach him. It had been a few years since the altercation at the Dairy Queen and Hale had taken Unser's advice and quietly provided Tara with his unconditional friendship. She still only had eyes for Jax, though. Wayne couldn't help but feel a little sorry for David.

He rolled down his window and David leaned down. "I'm worried about Tara. She's at the Morrow's and there's a lot of yelling and shouting. Gemma seems to be on a real tear about something."

"You know who all's at the house?" Unser asked.

"I think most of SAMCRO, Jax and Tara," David answered.

"You stay right here, no matter what," Wayne ordered, hoping he'd be able to handle this on his own. "You know you'll only make things worse if you show up."

"Yes, sir," Hale answered and stepped back to his vehicle.

Unser pulled into the Morrows' driveway and found Jax and Tara at the end near the street, shouting at the crowd gathered nearer the house. Gemma stood halfway between the two groups, yelling and swearing like a mad woman. Opie was beside her, looking desperate. Clay watched from the front porch with SAMCRO arranged helplessly behind him.

Wayne stepped out of his car and approached Gemma slowly, hands out in supplication. "Gemma, Gemma, calm down. Tell me what this is about."

"That flat assed bitch is trying to get Jackson to leave town with her," Gemma raged, gesticulating wildly in Jax and Tara's direction.

"Well, they haven't left yet," Unser said in a placating tone. "So let's try to work this out like reasonable adults."

"His place is here; his future is here, with us and with the Club," Gemma shouted. "He's not leaving."

"We're not kids anymore, you controlling bitch," Tara yelled from behind Wayne. "We can leave if we want to."

"You can get the hell out of town right now, for all I care," Gemma fired back. "But Jax is not going with you."

"He's a grown man and he can make his own decisions." Tara sounded near hysteria.

"We need to talk about this calmly," Opie said with quiet intensity from beside Gemma. "This is just gonna drive Jax away."

"Opie's right," Wayne said softly. "Now, let's all calm down, go inside, and talk this out."

"There's nothing to talk about," Gemma insisted. "If the little cunt wants to blow town, fine. Good riddance. But Jax is staying here."

"I'm not a kid anymore," Jax added his angry shout to the melee. "I'm nineteen now. If I stay or if I go, it's my choice."

"You have responsibilities here," Gemma yelled. "You're staying put."

"I'm not a kid, Ma. You can't order me around anymore."

"Jax, come on, bro," Opie pleaded. "If we all calm down and talk about this, everyone gets their say and we can work it out."

"Ope, man, I appreciate what you're trying to do," Jax replied. "But me and Tara are the only ones who need to talk. Take Gemma inside and let me handle this."

"I'm not going anywhere," Gemma cried.

"Mom, please, let me handle this," Jax implored.

"Gemma, Gemma," Unser interjected. "You gotta let him handle this his way. It's time."

"Wayne, you gotta make him stay," Gemma insisted.

"He's a grown man," Wayne said with a shake of his head. "We can't make him do anything anymore. He'll stay if he wants to."

Turning to Jax and Tara, he saw them huddled together at the end of the driveway. "You two need to decide what you're gonna do," Unser told them.

Tara tugged at Jax's hand in an effort to get him to move. "Come on, Jax. We can get you a bus ticket at the station."

"Let's say I go with you," Jax said. "You got family down there to stay with. You're gonna start your classes at UCSD. What's down there for me?"

"You can stay with me and my aunt," Tara answered. "San Diego's really big, Jax. You can get a job."

"You're going to San Diego to make your future," Jax argued. "I already know who I am, what I want and what my future is."

"This town is small and ugly. It'll eat you alive."

"I love Charming. It's my home. My family is good for me. I don't need to run from them."

"But, I thought you loved me." Wayne saw tears spring to Tara's eyes and her voice cracked with emotion.

Jax cradled her face in his hands. "I do. I do love you, Tara."

"Then come with me. We'll be together and that's all that matters."

"It's not all that matters." Jax's voice was also thick with his tumultuous feelings. "What happens when you graduate and go to medical school?"

"You can go with me." Tara was clinging to Jax now and Wayne's heart broke for her.

"Do you hear what you're saying? Your whole plan is about me following you around while you go to school and become a doctor. I need more than that."

"I don't want to leave without you." Something in Tara's voice changed. Gone was the desperation, replaced with what sounded like apathy.

"And I don't want you to go." Jax began to extricate himself from Tara's grip. "But I can't go with you and just be your lapdog."

"Jax …" What should have sounded pleading was now monotone.

"I love you, Tara," he said, stepping back from her. "I probably always will. But you need to make a life for yourself outside of Charming, and mine is already here."

"Fine, Jax," Tara sounded accepting; almost disinterested.

Jax turned and walked quickly toward the house. As he brushed past Opie, Wayne could see tears in his eyes. Opie turned to follow Jax toward the house.

"All this for nuthin'," Unser said to Gemma. "Your boy did the right thing. You should trust him to do that in the future."

Gemma's jaw clenched but she said nothing. The lines of her body were already releasing pent up tension. Her relief was palpable.

Wayne turned and walked to where Tara stood, alone and forlorn. "Give you a ride somewhere, honey?"

He watched as she took a deep breath, turned away from the house and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "The bus station." If Unser hadn't seen the tears, he'd have thought Tara was resigned about what had just happened.

As Wayne loaded Tara's small suitcase into the trunk of his patrol car, he looked up to see Jax, still on the front porch, surrounded by the members of SAMCRO. His back was still to the street, but the set of his shoulders told Unser the man was struggling not to cry. Clay wrapped a hand around the back of Jax's neck and pulled him in, whispering into his ear. Jax nodded periodically in response. Opie stood helplessly beside them both, a hand comfortingly on Jax's shoulder. Gemma still stood in the center of the driveway, looking from her son, to Tara, and back again.

Wayne helped Tara into the front seat of his car and looked toward the house one more time. The men were filing back inside; Chibs on one side of Jax, Opie on the other. Both had their arms around his shoulders.

Tara was stoic and silent as Unser pulled into the street. She sat passively in her seat and stared straight ahead. As they neared David's Bronco, he saw Hale start to get out. He pulled up beside him, rolling down Tara's window.

David leaned down and placed a comforting hand on Tara's shoulder. "Everything okay?"

Tara's only response was a single nod. She didn't even turn to look at David.

"Tara here's going to live in San Diego and go to college there," Wayne explained.

"Good, that's good, Tara," David said with great feeling.

"I'm gonna run her to the bus station," he said, hoping Tara would find something to say to David.

"You take good care of yourself," Hale said. "If you ever think of it, just drop us a line letting us know how you're doing."

"I will, thank you," Tara agreed listlessly. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Good luck, David."

"I'd say good luck, but you don't need it. You're going to do great things."

Tara nodded and Wayne rolled up her window and started off toward the Charming bus station.

At the curb, he parked and retrieved Tara's suitcase from the trunk. "You got a ticket, already?" he asked.

"My aunt sent it to me," she said as she retrieved it from her purse.

"Is she picking you up on the other end?"

"I'm only taking the bus to Goleta, then I get on Amtrak. But yeah, she's picking me up at the station." Tara's demeanor was of someone going on a brief vacation. Wayne had to wonder if this was how she coped in the short run, or if this was going to be a lifelong pattern of denial and avoidance for her.

"You got enough money for your trip? For food and other things?"

"Yeah, she sent me plenty of cash for the trip, too."

"You be careful," he said, with finality. "You're gonna do good things, Tara. I hope we get to meet again someday."

"Thank you, Chief." She turned and wheeled her suitcase into the station.

It was eleven years before Wayne saw Dr. Tara Knowles again. By then, he was dying of cancer. There was nothing Tara could do for him, but she was in the right place at the right to help save Abel Teller.

Tara reminded him even more of Gemma when she returned.

There was no way in hell he was ever going to say that to Gemma, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Wonderfully beta'd by sotto_voice and i_lovetherain.


End file.
